The Reluctant Imperialist - Chapter 37

WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

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◈ The Reluctant Imperialist

Chapter 37

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The Path I Must Take (3)

Day broke.

I looked up at the sky and drew Ebenholtz's longsword. The blade, edge, and hilt were all worn, yet it was strangely sharp. Even the material felt too profound for me to fully grasp.

It was an excellent sword, one that could raise a swordsman's ability by two or three tiers, and one that was especially effective against "aberrations."

Akard's sword, the one that had clashed with this blade, had also been a fine weapon.

I did not know whether Akard survived in Macken. But that was no longer my burden. From here on, he would have to prove his talent by surviving.

"......"

I watched the sunlight spilling in. The dark mountain range was already filled with bright light.

"......Sir Maximilian. May I ask for an explanation of the situation?"

Jecard returned with his private troops. I spoke first.

"We found the bodies of Hans and the pursuit team. I do not know whether they caught Akard, but it looked like all of them were taken down by a Macken aberration."

"Did you confirm Akard's body?"

He seemed to have no interest at all in the death of his own brother, Hans.

"No. But-"

"It must be confirmed."

Jecard frowned. He even cut me off mid-sentence.

I looked at him, my gaze turning cold.

"......Mr. Jecard."

I called his name and stepped closer.

"Akard Kailus is only a boy. A child from the west who has not even been knighted."

I placed a hand on his disheveled collar. Jecard flinched.

"There is no way a child like that can survive in Macken, and even if some miracle keeps him alive."

He must have rushed here. Dirt clung to his clothes. I straightened his collar and gave him a faint smile.

"You have a bright future ahead of you. Are you really going to be afraid of one child?"

You are an imperial noble. A villain who cut down his own brother and stole everything. So stop being a nuisance and handle one kid yourself.

You fucking idiot.

"......Yes. You are right."

Jecard gave a servile smile. He did not ramble any further. Instead, he held out a box of treasure, calling it a gift.

"Give it to the soldiers who did the hard work, not me."

I turned it down and left Macken at once.

* * *

After crossing the Macken Mountains, he reached a small riverbank. Beyond the river, through the fog, the border of the western kingdoms appeared faintly.

Whooooo......

A cold wind shook the torn hem of the boy's robe. Soft sunlight caught his tears.

"......"

Akard survived.

He had every right to be happy.

His own life in this world. The most valuable thing he had ever won.

"......Father."

He had kept his promise. At last, he had kept the one promise he shared with his whole family.

There was no one left to boast to, no one left to warmly pat his head and praise him......

"I survived."

The boy dropped to his knees. Gripping a fistful of wet mountain dirt, he cried out in a stifled voice. The final image of his family, the burning main house, and his own helplessness hit him all at once and tore through his heart.

"Hone yourself."

Even now, that voice still rang clearly in his ears.

The knight of Ebenholtz. The very man who beheaded his family.

Yet at the same time, he was also the benefactor who pulled him back from death.

The man who killed my family saved me.

Akard felt a strange confusion.

At the same time, he remembered the knight's back as he walked away.

"So that one day, you can reclaim what you lost."

A knight was someone who enforced the Empire's will, and this purge was a plot that began with Jecard. Even so, that knight did not kill him, a blood relative of Kailus.

Instead, he gave him a hard lesson.

Why had he done it? Was it a simple whim, or part of some deception?

Akard still did not know.

"What I lost......"

But he still had a path he had to take.

That path was etched into the back of that contradictory knight.

There were things he had to return and reclaim, no matter what.

The tears on his cheeks were no longer only from grief.

* * *

After the Beheading Operation, the military tallied merit. "Tallying" might sound almost funny, but for soldiers and knights alike, it was a critical process. Some people bet their lives on it, and others built grudges over it and later took revenge.

But today, at least in this operation, no one would disagree.

"Congratulations, Sir Maximilian."

In the grand conference hall of Imperial Army headquarters, I stepped onto the platform over the red carpet and received a medal.

But this operation's true nature was not "suppression of treason." It was a purge, so there would be no major publicity or press release.

"One more third-grade medal and you'll move up to the second-grade Gold Lion medal. That's very fast at your age."

"Thank you."

The Empire's medal system was strict, but straightforward.

Three third-grade Gold Lion medals moved you up to second grade. If you then built enough merit to receive second grade around nine times, you could receive first grade.

The brilliantly named [Imperial Hero Golden Lion Medal].

"Congratulations, Sir Maximilian."

When I came down from the platform, senior officers approached and offered handshakes. I did not bother refusing their goodwill.

Click.

As the usual commemorative photos were taken again, I studied the people filling this room.

Click.

Suddenly I remembered what Edmund said, the Emperor's closest inner circle, "Agentes."

Click.

A madman born with the most perfect legitimacy in imperial history, a man who mistook himself for a god. He was surely watching this entire system. Even now, at this very moment, eyes were on me somewhere.

"Sir Maximilian."

A uniformed officer approached. A nearly sixty-year-old bald brigadier general with one star. It was Deputy Chief of Staff Jens, former superior of Major Han.

"I received your gift well."

I understood at once.

He looked like a petty, greedy man, but a general had a general's own strengths. Growing old in the military meant surviving, and surviving meant being strong in another sense.

A place a young officer like Major Han could never reach, no, a man as honest as him could never reach.

"It seems Major Han moved into a new home."

I searched my memory of the man named Jens. He was a fairly famous political figure. A fox who stayed passive through every dirty act of the military and always kept himself an escape route. Thanks to that, he survived and kept his wealth even after the Revolutionary Faction rose to power.

Could he become my ally?

Could I trust him?

Still, to raise Major Han to a high place in the Imperial Guard, he was one of the people I absolutely needed. He was as good at self-preservation as he was at politics. Being good at self-preservation meant knowing exactly when to retreat.

"Brigadier General Jens. I hope to keep learning from you."

Mutual trust was unnecessary. This was just a deal.

Jens would help while pretending not to know the relationship between Major Han and me, and once Major Han was firmly on track, he would leave willingly. That was what I wanted too.

The gifts I would pay him from now on were all just tuition.

"Yes. Of course. Leave it to me. Hahaha."

A man who knew how to lower himself without limit, the bald fox Jens.

I smiled faintly and shook his hand......

--「Imperial Army Commander-in-Chief's Office」 --

I looked at the nameplate on the deepest door in headquarters. As a knight who took part in the Beheading Operation, I now had to report directly to the Commander-in-Chief.

"......Hoo."

My heart pounded.

It was not as if my father was Izenheim.

Even now, the man named Sebestian still made me tense.

"I'm coming in."

I opened the door.

Beyond the open window where sunlight streamed in, Sebestian stood there.

Over two meters tall. A perfectly sculpted body even under the thick uniform. A beard always impeccably groomed as befitted a noble, and hair combed back without a single strand out of place.

I walked up to him.

Now that I thought about it, this was the first time since regression that I had faced him from this close.

"......"

Sebestian looked my way. He said nothing.

Even so, the pressure he gave off was overwhelming. That was why even the most renowned generals in the military shrank before him.

I gave him a respectful nod. But I was not first in line. Sebestian treated me as if I were not there.

The military executives approached him first and handed over documents.

Sebestian read through them. There was no other sound. Heavy silence ruled the entire room. Absolute hierarchy and rank crushed everything inside.

The executives, already small beside Sebestian, seemed to crumple more and more as time passed. They crumpled and crumpled until nothing could be seen except Sebestian.

The Commander-in-Chief scrawled his signature on the last page.

"Loyalty!"

As soon as they got approval, they all left the office like men fleeing for their lives.

But I remained.

As a knight and overseer who took part in the Beheading Operation, the final report had to be given verbally.

"......We secured the heads of four direct-line members, including Yusef von Kailus, the head of house who planned treason, and exterminated all resisting collateral relatives and private troops. However, we did not find the body of one direct-line member, the youngest son."

"Did he get away?"

"It is not certain yet."

"I'm asking what you think."

"If he was not found, then he chose to climb Macken. And if he chose to climb Macken, then he will live or die by his own ability."

Sebestian looked at me.

"Knight Maximilian."

I met Sebestian's gaze. I did not avoid the eyes of that monster who had never been a father, and still was not.

For a moment, his face from before regression overlapped with the present. Back then, to me, who had achieved nothing, he said this.

"Then why did you go there?"

"It was a mission that had to be completed as a knight. Nothing more, nothing less."

That future had changed. It was neither contempt nor scorn, but it was not praise either. It meant I had only done what I was supposed to do.

A dry exchange that could not be called a conversation between father and son.